


The Ring Bearer

by AJofthe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJofthe/pseuds/AJofthe
Summary: After a winter in Erebor following the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo leaves on a quest.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

It is fully dark and Thorin’s light snores echo slightly as the door to the King’s chambers slits open just enough for a hobbit to slip through. The guards are fast asleep and Bilbo pauses to collect the two remaining cookies from their plates. No need to waste something that might be helpful later on. 

His steps are silent on the stone as he moves as quickly as possible to the library. 

The Elvish book Thorin destroyed last week has been repaired and is on Ori’s stack to be reshelved as Bilbo expected. Also as expected, several larger sections of pages were destroyed when Thorin ripped it apart and it is not hard to slip the small wrapped package into the thinned out pages and place it back in the tiny section of Elvish books tucked away in a far away corner. It would be centuries, in all likelihood, before the package would be found. 

The guards near the stable are more aware, but are distracted when a drunken group, no doubt the last of the celebrants from the feast, stumble out of the Great Hall and Bilbo’s dark cloak masks him well enough to slip into the stable. 

The guards at the gate are also laughing at the brawl that has broken out among the partiers as he slowly leads a pony along the edge of the stone gate and cracks it open just enough to slip out. 

It is not until he has ridden well into the forest to Laketown that Bilbo breathes deep and he knows that even this is not safety. 

It is just dawn the next day when he turns his pony onto the Old Forest Road. The pony is comfortable pulling the small dray loaded with provisions from Laketown and he hopes that all who encounter him will assume that he is a merchant and that the cart is full of his goods. His elvish blade is at his side and it remains unglowing. He encounters only one Mirkwood patrol and they nod at him and let him pass. 

Clearly, the efforts to clear the forest have been successful for it is far less terrifying than before. But he does not light a fire any of the nights he travels along the road.

When he arrives at the river, it takes a bit of careful guidance to get the pony to drag the cart close enough, but eventually, she understands. And he has unloaded the small boat just as Beorn arrives. 

“I did not expect this,” the shapeshifter says, but he carries additional supplies and is happy to take the pony and release her into a wild herd he knows. They burn the dray for their lunch and Bilbo luxuriates in the warm tea they make. He suspects it will be the last hot beverage he will drink. 

On the river, he feels safe for the first time in many months. But it lasts only until the third day when a pack of goblins almost ambush him in his camp. Sting glows and he doesn’t even think, just throws everything in the boat and pushes off. Only after does he see them ravaging the leftovers he abandoned. 

They can see him, but cannot get to him over the water, but they follow anyway. After almost a full day, but luckily before he gives into exhaustion, the wind picks up and his little craft outpaces their running. But he is extremely cautious after that, refusing to stop unless there are stones or other things in the river where he can tie up his craft. It is an easy decision early on the fifth day to travel only at night, where he will not be as easy to see and because he has only just come upon a rock outcrop in the middle of a huge curve. 

Bilbo awakes after the sun has set, but with a good wind and he lets it carry him into the evening. He stops early, while the sun is still slightly visible and catches a fish. Even raw, it is better than the provisions he has, although he is grateful for them. 

He sleeps well enough that night, but the next morning, an orcish patrol is waiting as he comes around a curve in the river. It is a near thing that his boat escapes the trap over the river they set and he hears them discussing how they smelled him downriver. He wonders how best to disguise his scent. He does not stop again. 

The glowing light catches his eye first in the awakening day on the eighth day and then, as his little craft draws closer, he sees her. She is watching him and he lowers the sail and polls towards the shore. 

Her golden hair cascades down from a small crown, but he is mostly sure he would recognize her without that.

She gestures for him to toss his rope and together they bring the boat to rest ashore. 

"Lady Galadriel," he says, clambering out of the boat, and bowing. 

"Bilbo Baggins, ring bearer, welcome to Lórien," she replies and gestures to a small fire blazing in a grove mostly hidden from the river. Bilbo is not sure what to make of this new title, but delights in the smell of fresh bread. 

There is an abundant amount of fresh food and they eat as she tells him that she has seen his journey with her magic. 

"I shall not speak of why you travel. But I wish to lend Lórien's support and mine to your effort. We can provide you a full day's rest and supplies." 

He thanks her and there is a bedroll near the fire and for the first time in what feels like an age, Bilbo sleeps peacefully. 

She is reading various papers when he wakes. There are fresh biscuits and eggs near the fire and he devours them as she shows him the more detailed maps she had brought along. 

"I knew of the rapids and the falls, but perhaps I should abandon my boat earlier," he muses. 

"One of our Rangers has mapped Emyn Muil," Galadrial offers and they study that map. 

He feels the urge to move on quickly and she smiles and folds the map for him, before turning to a small pile of items resting beside her. 

"Once I saw your boat, I had this made," she says and Bilbo realizes that she is holding a sail. She also has a cloak of the same material. "It also will protect you. It will keep you warm or cool and can hide you from sight, although smell and sound will still carry.” 

Bilbo accepts it reverently. The lembas and a vial of light are appreciated and tucked into the small pack that he’s carried since his first visit to Laketown. 

“Is there anything you think that would help with the smell of me? The orcs I escaped yesterday or the day before said they could smell me,” he asks and she muses and he meets the few additional elves she brought along. Haldir seems to light up at the question. 

“I have often wondered the same,” he admits, speaking the common tongue easily. “In my travels, I have avoided cleaning myself and I have found that helps. As does a large cloak. But avoid all pleasant smells. The smell of fire or burnt things seems to be a normal scent for them and they do not appear to notice that.” 

Bilbo spreads out his new cloak before the fire and lets it soak in the smell as he eats lunch with these elves, teasing them when one says something in Sindarin about how tiny he is he was not intended to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

The map and the cloak are invaluable in Emyn Muil. Bilbo notices the scrambling of Gollum before the creature sees him and ducks deep into a swamp of rocks, watching as the creature screeches his rage and anger into the air. 

The map is mostly accurate and he follows it away from the creature and towards the Black Gate. The gate is massive and well-guarded, but apparently his scent is now enough to not impinge on the noses of the orcs as hundreds stream by him unnoiticing in the first day. 

The cloak over his head, Bilbo waits for the right opportunity. The lembas keeps him fed, but he is starting to doubt that this entrance is passable when an orcish patrol arrives. The gates swing open and he slips in behind them, easily able to stay far away given the small size of the patrol and the massive size of the gates. 

He waits again, just inside the gate to see the direction they go. They pause to speak to the gate guards and then continue on. 

He follows after a good distance. He can still see them and he can somewhat keep up since they are not on wargs. But he has learned his lesson about how well they smell and stays far back. 

Once they cross the flat valley, they settle in for the night and Bilbo stays far away, tucked between rocks where his cloak offers the most protection.

The next morning, he watches from his rocks as they reach the small pass and continue south towards a tower he can barely see in the distance. His goal is the mountain stretching towards the sky in the south east.

It seems safer to stick close to the mountain range and the protection of the rocks for as long as he can. On his second night, he sees another patrol and is grateful for his plan. Three days later, he starts for Mount Doom, far away from the patrols that seem to regularly go between the black gate and Cirith Ungol. 

The two days it takes him to reach the foot of Mount Doom are terrifying. There is not extensive cover and he jumps at every sound. He makes his camp tucked into the rocks at the base of the mountain, but realizes after an hour of trying to sleep that it is a pointless task. 

He surveys his pack, with some lembas and half a waterskin left, and decides to carry it along. Hopeful he will not need any of it, but things happen. 

The cloak does its best to keep him cool as he draws closer and closer to the gate of Sammarth Naur. There is a faint red glow through the door and Bilbo continues to watch for orcs although he sees none. 

The heat grows oppressive as he walks through the dark arch and he tries lifting the vial of light for the beams to only faintly glow. 

It is just enough light so that he can walk down into the dark cave to the source of the red glow and the heat. Flames and smoke billow around him and the cloak becomes almost too stifling and he shoves it back over his shoulders. 

Standing at the edge of the long platform, he looks below. 

The red liquid stone moves below him like the liquid gold that he had seen in Erebor and he is mesmerized for a moment.

But then he takes the ring out of his pocket and it glows almost as much. 

It seems to be whispering to him, promising power and riches. He listens for a moment, thinking of what could be done. He clutches the ring to his chest. 

But he is tired of all that. 

And he tosses it into the fire with a flick of his wrist. It falls and falls and his stomach and brain scream at him for the loss. 

Bilbo is entirely unsure how long he stands on the edge of the platform.

But then the liquid stone explodes below him, a smattering of drops burning his naked skin and through his loose shirt and he rushes back up the path. 

He barely makes it to a mound of stone high enough and watches as he is surrounded by the red liquid stone. The busts of fire around the mountain are flaming higher now and Bilbo sits next to one of them, pulling out his pipe and the mostly empty bag of pipeweed from his pocket. 

The mountain continues to explode as he lights his pipe on the stream of fire nearby, wincing at the pain in the tiny burns scattered across the back of his hand as they are thrust closer to the fire. But his first draw feels like sunshine on the bench outside of Bag End. And he leans back against the stones and imagines that is where he is. His task is finished. 

The huge explosion startles Landroval and he shifts away from his planned monitoring of orcish patrols to swoop towards Mount Doom. Luckily, he is close enough that he reaches it within an hour. 

The fire and smoke are spreading quickly and there are stones flying though the air, but he circles the mountain looking for clues as to what happened. 

He almost misses the small creature resting on a rock. He swoops down and recognizes the elvish cloak. The creature is smaller and Landroval would guess a dwarf. 

Dodging another rock, he swoops low enough and realizes the creature is even smaller than a dwarf and is clearly unconscious. 

His next sweep, he gathers up the cloak and the creature in his claws and, after judging the weight of that burden, flies for Lórien.


End file.
